


mortal traditions

by seven_of_cups



Category: Chilling Adventures of Sabrina (TV 2018)
Genre: Absolute fluff, F/F, mistletoe trope, slight angst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-24
Updated: 2018-12-24
Packaged: 2019-09-26 15:08:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17144039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seven_of_cups/pseuds/seven_of_cups
Summary: The one where Zelda's been dragged to Baxter High's holiday party and finds herself under the mistletoe with Mary. Or: the one where Mary admits that some mortal traditions might just have grown on her.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much to everyone who enjoyed this story on tumblr (find it at spellman-sisters-mortuary)!

She hadn’t been to a mortal party in decades. Before Ambrose had come to live with them, even. So the better part of a century then. Satan, she was old. It was Baxter High’s end of year holiday party, and Sabrina had forced her to attend. She’d played the _don’t you even care about me_ card, and then Zelda couldn’t very well say no without validating her niece’s entirely ridiculous and completely unfounded suspicion that Zelda had never truly loved her. She loathed to think that, in Sabrina’s eyes, attending a mortal party celebrating the false god at her niece’s request was in any way a measure of her love for the girl. There is nothing Zelda wouldn’t do to show Sabrina how much she is loved, and it worried Zelda how little she understood that.

So she attended. Because of Sabrina but also because of Hilda who, when Zelda had initially refused to consort with mortals strictly on principle, had sighed and rolled her eyes dramatically. “Oh, Zelda, do you even know how to have fun anymore?” she’d asked, and Zelda could hear quite distinctly the pity in her tone. So she attended to prove Hilda wrong as well. It made her feel old to be cooped up in that house, and, frankly, Zelda missed the bitter liquor and fleeting passionate romance of the parties she and Hilda used to attend. So, there she was in the corner of the Baxter High gymnasium observing quietly and entirely alone.

She had a clear, plastic cup of cider in her hand and one arm folded over her middle as she watched hordes of mortal children and their families and teachers mingle and laugh and play board games and bean bag toss and darts and what not. It was all quite overwhelming, to be honest, and Zelda was itching for a cigarette. She’d been smoking for longer than any of these people had been alive, and her _attachment_ to nicotine was quite overpowering, especially in stressful situations. She watched Hilda laugh with some parents and caught Sabrina out of the corner of her eye dragging her mortal friends around a corner, giggling conspiratorially. Bitterly, she swallowed the rest of her cider and set the cup down on a nearby table. 

“Need a refill?” a voice asked from behind. She jumped, just slightly, but it was the lack of nicotine making her jittery, really, nothing more. Miss Wardwell slunk in front of her, ducking just slightly, a curious gesture of humility. There was a strained smile on her lips, perfect white teeth behind them, and her eyes were piercing and bright. 

“I, well, yes, a refill would be lovely,” Zelda answered, not knowing how to react to the woman’s eager friendliness. Mary nodded wordlessly and left to get her a cup. When she came back, she handed the cup with cider to Zelda and took a cup of red wine for herself. 

“I took the liberty of adding a bit of rum to yours,” Mary told her breezily, “It’s the only way I get through these holiday parties myself,” she chuckled, glancing around the room at all the so very painfully happy mortals. Zelda eyed her suspiciously. Zelda agreed, wholeheartedly, but her delivery felt staged. Something just…off about it, too plastic, too painted.

“Why do you attend?” Zelda asked before sipping her drink. Satan, it was strong. Zelda didn’t even mind. 

“I suppose I’m expected to. Besides, I have nothing better to do,” she supplied, her eyes searching Zelda’s, looking for some kind of understanding. Zelda certainly understood boredom and the desperate need to escape it. In fact, she didn’t think she’d ever understood boredom as well as she did in this very moment. But she was here for Sabrina, and, for her, she would endure just about anything. Zelda hummed vaguely in response. She could respect a woman who works with children, and if Mary Wardwell hadn’t felt the need to insert herself so completely, so suspiciously into Sabrina’s life then she might actually do just that. “Why are _you_ here…Zelda?” Mary asked curiously, her fingers tapping on the cheap plastic that was holding her wine. 

“ _Sabrina_ asked me to attend. It was…important to her,” she told her with a forced smile. 

“Ahh,” Mary breathed, “what we do for the ones we love,” she mused, chuckling and looking at her as if she too had experienced the sacrifices Zelda had had to make for Sabrina. As if her attending Sabrina’s silly little holiday party was even remotely a testament to Zelda’s love for her niece. It didn’t even come close to what she would do for that girl. The naivety was reminiscent of Sabrina’s own, but there was something different in Mary’s. Some flicker of a deeper understanding of sacrifice and pain that Zelda found oddly comforting.

Either way, Zelda smiled pleasantly and watched as Mary brushed her mountains of perfectly curled hair away from her eyes and held her arms perfectly at her sides. The dress she wore was form fitting and, objectively, an appropriate length with an appropriately modest neckline for an after school get together. However, the way she wore it was absolutely sinful. The way her eyes dripped with something secret and delicious and decidedly directed at Zelda. She hadn’t the faintest idea what it was, but Mary wasn’t talking to her out of the kindness of her heart. That much was clear.

“Thank you for the rum,” Zelda said before taking another long drink. Mary watched as she did and took a sip of her wine. Zelda felt uncomfortable being watched so closely, and she rubbed her fingers together anxiously. Satan, she wanted a cigarette.

“My pleasure,” Mary smiled with a nod, and it felt, for the first time that night, more genuine than the rest of her words. “I needed some of it myself after talking to Principal Hawthorne,” she admitted, her voice getting lower, more conspiratorial, as she took a small step closer to Zelda.

“Oh?” she inquired because it felt like the polite thing to do. Mary hummed deliciously low and glanced around before continuing. Everyone else was too preoccupied with games and meaningless conversations to bother coming over to them. She supposed she and Mary were the black sheep of the party anyway.

“He’s quite the misogynist,” she told Zelda, “always hitting on me, incredibly disrespectful. It takes every ounce of my self control not to kill him on the spot,” she said, searching Zelda’s eyes, her voice low, barely above a whisper, their faces indecently close. Zelda swallowed and blinked rapidly.

“How awful. I-I’m sorry you have to work with him. It must be terrible being surrounded by mortals everyday and all their petty drama,” she offered for lack of anything more coherent to say.

“Oh, it’s not as bad as you might think. They’re all so fun to _play_ with, but, sometimes, yes, I’d much rather consort with _other_ witches,” she admitted, “Ones such as yourself, perhaps. Strong, passionate, powerful women. Magic is rather…intoxicating, wouldn’t you say? Hard to let go of, far too easy to come back to,” she mused, one of her hands ghosting over Zelda’s shoulder blade, her head tilted toward Zelda ever so slightly. Zelda furrowed her brow momentarily, hating herself for how much Mary’s slow, sultry voice was melting her from the inside out.

“You make it sound like a bad habit,” Zelda countered, keeping her expression even. Mary stepped away from her abruptly, breaking the little bubble she’d kept them in. Voices from he party flooded back to her, and Zelda felt positively assaulted by them.

“Ah, well, sometimes the things that give us pleasure aren’t always the wisest. Hexing Principal Hawthorne, for example. Smoking, perhaps,” she mused, striking a nerve right where Zelda didn’t want to be struck. “You seem rather eager to…step outside,” Mary smiled, and Zelda immediately felt heat rise to her cheeks at how transparent she’d been. “Don’t be embarrassed, dear, I’ll join you,” Mary gave her a warm smile, and Zelda found herself following when Mary led her to the front doors.

When she and Mary were outside, Zelda lit a cigarette quickly and unceremoniously. They stood at the entrance of the school, covered by an overhang as snow fell lightly on the sidewalk and front lawn. The silence that the snow created was deafening, and Mary just leaned against the door and watched her as she smoked. Zelda stared into nothing, trying not to feel Mary’s eyes drilling into the back of her head. She had the cigarette between her fingers and wondered absently when it was the last time she hadn’t used her cigarette holder. “What do you smoke?” Mary called and Zelda turned. She blew smoke from her lips and glanced at the cigarette in her hand.

“Marlboro’s. Reds,” she added, and Mary hummed. She pushed herself off the door and walked over to Zelda. Satan, even her walk dripped with sin. The way she stalked to her like a cat stalking its prey.

“I never was much of a smoker,” Mary told her, “but I always enjoyed the romance of it,” she breathed, glancing around at the snow falling in the dark and the distant sounds of tires crunching under fresh powder. She glanced up to the clouds and then stopped, a smile gracing her lips. “Oh, dear,” she chuckled, and Zelda frowned, following Mary’s gaze to find mistletoe nailed to the top of the overhang they were under. Zelda inhaled deeply and found Mary’s gaze. Her expression was ever so innocent, but her eyes were steady and playfully suggestive. Zelda’s heart betraying her by thumping loudly in her chest.

“It’s just mistletoe,” she drawled with a shake of her head as her eyes drifted to Mary’s lips. They were blood red and pursed ever so slightly, and her eyes were positively on fire.

“My thoughts exactly,” Mary responded, and then without further preamble her lips were covering Zelda’s. The motion was quick but her lips were incredibly gentle and tender. Zelda froze as Mary raised her hands and let them rest, feather light, on her waist. Then her lips parted slightly, a suggestion, a proposition, a request for more. And Zelda, frankly too stunned and too completely and embarrassingly intoxicated by Mary, allowed it. Maybe it was the rum or the cigarette or the sheer boredom. Maybe it was that part of her had wanted this since Mary first sashayed through Zelda’s home like she owned the place, leather clad and sultry and begging to be touched.

Zelda’s lips moved languidly in and out of Mary’s. Soft breaths and the delicate sounds of lips and saliva between them. Then Mary wrapped her arms around Zelda’s body and pulled her closer by her lower back so they were flush up against each other. Zelda let herself be handled and melted, and when Mary tugged on her lower lip ever so expertly, Zelda barely realized what she was doing when a low, choked moan escaped her. Sensing Zelda’s immediate panic, Mary kissed her soundly to quell her embarrassment. Then she gave her one more soft, lingering kiss on the lips before letting her arms slide from Zelda’s body. They stood inches apart, and Zelda was struggling to ground herself as Mary delicately and deliberately plucked Zelda’s cigarette from her fingers and took a long, hard drag, never breaking eye contact.

“I must admit that some mortal traditions have…grown on me,” Mary offered, smoke curling from her lips with every word. She blew the rest away from Zelda’s face in a quick, streamlined exhale before handing Zelda back her cigarette. “Bright Solstice, Ms. Spellman. Best wishes to your family,” Mary told her, her eyes blatantly raking Zelda’s body without warrant or apology. Then she turned and walked back inside, leaving Zelda to wonder what had just happened and if it was possible for it to happen again without losing all semblances of her dignity this time.


	2. the after credit scene

Silently, Zelda took a long hard and dazed drag from her cigarette, the only sound the ringing in her ears and the soft crackling from the cigarette as she inhaled. Blowing the smoke from her lips, she snubbed the cigarette between the concrete and the bottom of her shoe. She took a deep breath and glanced up at the mistletoe. Despite the snow around her, she felt entirely hot and uncomfortable and pressed the back of her hand to her forehead and the other to her hip. She exhaled slowly and closed her eyes. All she could see was Mary’s piercing attentive eyes and her lips closing around Zelda’s cigarette. She swore and opened her eyes, turning quickly and striding back through the front doors.

She was met with Sabrina and her friends in the entryway. Surprised, Zelda stopped abruptly and glanced between them. “What are you…” her voice was hoarse, and she cleared her throat. “Shouldn’t you ladies be at the party?”

“Shouldn’t you?” Sabrina countered curiously, looking her over. Her expression was far too amused for Zelda’s taste, and she reacted defensively, furrowing her brow tightly. “Were you out there with Ms. Wardwell? We just saw her come inside,” Sabrina asked innocently before Zelda could say anything.

“She was outside as well, yes,” Zelda answered suspiciously, eyeing the girls. Rosalind and Susie glanced at each other awkwardly, containing giggles, and Zelda frowned deeper. “What’s going on?” she drawled, suddenly feeling like she was dealing with young children again with their plotting and secrets.

“Nothing. We were just, uh, putting up mistletoe around the school. Hoping to get some people to…you know,” Sabrina offered delicately, and Zelda just barely quelled a blush. So they’d been the ones to put the mistletoe up outside. She supposed that was why they were stalking around the entryway, waiting for prey.

“I see,” Zelda said quietly.

“Aunt Zee.”

“Yes, Sabrina?”

“Your lipstick’s a little…” Sabrina trailed off, wiggling her finger over her chin. Zelda swallowed and quickly wiped her fingers over the area. They came back sticky and blood red, and, this time, she did blush rather intensely. Zelda didn’t wear that shade. Rosalind and Susie giggled, and Sabrina gave Zelda a knowing smile before roping her friends down the hall and away. They erupted into conspiratorial laughter and whispers once they were out of sight, and Zelda distinctly heard one of them hiss _finally_ with far too much excitement than was decent.


End file.
